Ebony Is A Friend Of Mine
by LMRichardson
Summary: When Ebony-Ann d'Sylviac is left a cryptic letter by a man claiming to be her grandfather, she ignores his warnings and lands herself, on her butt, in only a towel, smack bang in the middle of Camelot. What happens when the modern worlds self proclaimed spoilt brat, meets Camelot's own Prince Arthur? Good luck Merlin...! Rated M for language and future chapters. No Slash!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N – Hi guys! So this is my second Merlin story – although the first one is Merthur – I wanted to try something different while I figure out where I want the other story to go. Don't worry, those of you who are awaiting the next chapter of 'Twelve Days of Camping', there **__**will **__**be more up soon. This is more like an idea for a story that just would not go away – I know you know what I mean :) **_

_**This is unbeat'd, so sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. If you're up for the job, IM me?**_

_**Obviously, I don't own Merlin, Arthur or any of the other stunning members of BBC's Merlin – they all belong to their respective parties. **_

_**I also don't own 'On My Own' – Samantha Barks or 'You're the Voice' – John Farnham (although, I wonder how many of you will pick up on why I used the latter song?) **_

_**Basically, I only own Ebony-Ann d'Sylviac and her family!**_

_**Without further ado…I hope you enjoy! Reviews are more motivational than chocolate – just so you know ;) **_

The Shift…

The lecture theatre is massive, cold and painted the ugliest shade of yellow Ebony d'Sylviac has ever seen. It's also empty at the moment, what with her 'first day paranoia' – being late to her first seminar at Easlington University has been one of her worst reoccurring nightmares for the last few weeks, coming only second to standing in said room, completely butt naked while the entire student body point and laugh. Unfortunately, the result being that she'd caught the number 42 bus from the city centre at 7.46 that morning for a half an hour journey, a good twenty minutes earlier than she'd needed to get (because there is _so _much traffic at 7.46 in the morning – supply the right amount of sarcasm here) and arrived at Callaghan block at 8.27 after a short ten minute walk from the university bus stop on the other side of campus. Oh, and the lecture doesn't start until 9. Great. Living in student accommodation might have been a good idea after all – then again, why bother when there's a lovely woman named mum in a lovely big house only half an hour away? Breakfast in bed, laundry service and bank all rolled into one. Yeah, so she's aware that there is no person in the world more spoilt than her, but she doesn't act like a bitch about it, so all's good. Yep. Definitely.

"What to do, what to do?" Sighs Ebony, pursing her lips and dumping her bag (Prada Pyramide – yep, bitches) on the nearest table before collapsing into the chair behind it. Ouch, uncomfortable much? Drawing her legs up under her, sitting lotus style, she slips her iPhone from her jeggings (Vivienne Westwood – mmm-hmm) to check her texts. Silent mode is a damn annoyance, but a necessary one. Vibrate makes her jump every time it jiggles her leg, and if left on loud then the chances of it ringing, and people knowing that her ring tone is John Farnham's 'You're the Voice' (her love for 80's power ballads is something that Can. Not. Be. Public. Knowledge) is not exactly appealing.

Mum: _Gd luck! Xxx_

Carl: _Call me when you get the chance. Important. _– Yep, daddy dearest, ever the dick.

Emma: _Take pics of as mny guys as u can! I plan on bed hopping when I visit ya ;) lmao! Xxxxx_

Tapping away a quick 'thanks' to her mum she scrolls through her contacts, calling her dad. Emma, her absent best friend (who got a full ride scholarship to Yale, and who is currently all the way across the pond from her home country) deserves at least an hour's Skype anyway. She can deal with that when she gets home.

"I text you ten minutes ago, Ebony-Ann" Scolds her father, the moment he accepts the call. Without as much as a 'good morning'. "The point of having a _mobile _phone is that it is with you constantly."

"How are you this fine morning, father? Are the birds chirping and the sun shining wherever the fuck you are? I'm afraid a grey cloud has appeared in the sky over hear. Shame – it was such a nice day until I heard your dulcet tones" Snipes Ebony, ignoring the use of her full name. Ebony- Ann, ick!

"Language! I'm still your father, Ebony. Don't speak to me like that"

"Didn't you hear the 'father' in my greeting? Trust me; I'm very aware of your part in my being here. I mean, not so much the raising, but give the man a medal for ejaculation!"

"Yes, well, if I _had _have been there for your childhood, you most certainly wouldn't be the disappointment you are now" Growls her father. She can almost hear his jaw clench, and hand contract around the phone.

"Disappointment? I think you're confusing me with the spawn of Satan you and _Mindy _are raising." Muses Ebony, examining her nails absentmindedly. Her brother, Jakob or something, from his father's bit on the side, is just over a month older than her. Her poor mother, seven months pregnant, had discovered her husband's second family, and promptly kicked the bastard out. Apart from the odd birthday and Christmas cards, Ebony had had barely any contact with her biological father from the ages of foetus to seventeen. In the last year, he'd developed a conscience (or something). Which was extremely irritating.

"Jason has nothing to do with this" Says her father, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself. Jason! So, not Jakob then. Ha.

"Do spit it out, you said it was important. Did you find another grey hair in your beard?" Asks Ebony in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"You're eighteen, Ebony; please try to act your age" Sighs her father, before continuing quickly, "I'm coming back to England"

"Ugh, and you couldn't have told me sooner? I'd have gone to Princeton with Emma" Grumbles Ebony, her stomach doing somersaults.

"Princeton is prestigious, Ebony" Sneers her father.

"I'm aware of that. And I would have gotten in if I'd of taken the SAT's last year"

"Mmm-hmm" hums her father non-commitally.

"I got three A's and a fucking A star at A-level!" Huffs Ebony, finally unable to keep up the blasé attitude she'd been holding on to. "Not that you'd know that. I'm sure you were far too busy celebrating Jakobs D's"

"_Jason _is heading the Vancouver office, Ebony; he is gaining practical experience in my company. After all, he'll be CEO when I step down"

"Yep, and what a brilliant idea that is. Out of your two children, the one you're picking to run your company, you choose the one who flunked college over the one who got an A in business. Good choice, father, good choice."

"That is not something that concerns you"

"Good. Look, my lecture is about to start, say whatever it is that you have to say and then fuck the hell off"

"As I said, I'm coming back to England. Jason and Mindy are staying in Vancouver but I'll land tomorrow afternoon, and I would like you to meet me for dinner"

"_What_?" Splutters Ebony, dropping her nail file against her desk. "No!"

"Ebony, I need to talk to you about something that is best done in person"

"I'd rather meet Voldemort in person, thanks"

"Fine, I'll do this over the phone" sighs her father, "your grandfather, my dad, died last week"

"Why are you telling me this? I never met the man"

"Honestly, I wasn't going to. But I received an email this morning, from my mother, saying that she found a letter addressed to an Ebony-Ann d'Sylviac in my father's study. I don't know how he knew your name, or why he'd have written you a letter, but I think you should have it."

"And you couldn't have sent it over to me?" Pushes Ebony, trying to find a way (_any _way!) to not ever have to see Carl Clarke.

"I would like to meet you"

"Bollocks" States Ebony coldly, "you want to make sure he hasn't given away _your _inheritance to his estranged granddaughter"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ebony. I want to finally meet my daughter."

"Why now?"

"I can't explain it, but I feel like the now is the right time. So will you meet me tomorrow evening?"

"It doesn't really seem like I have a choice"

_X/X/X/X/X/X/X/X_

The next two days fly by in a rush of inductions, introductions and the odd bit of learning. History had always been Ebony's passion, the people, the places, the everything of the past fascinated Ebony, to the point that she'd immersed herself in the subject all throughout school and college, and was now taking it for her BA. Rome had always been her favourite part of the courses, but only because she'd never found an institution which offered a course specifically devoted to Arthurian Legend. Camelot was, and always had been, her first love and it had been a gleeful twist of fate that Easlington offered a Medieval England course with Arthurian Legend as a specialist module through all three years. Ebony had always been told that she was a riddle wrapped in a conundrum – the stereotypical popular girl, shallow, spoilt and bitchy half the time, but a geeky, mummy's girl able to fangirl over things like 80's power ballads, Star Wars and anything else remotely comic-con or convention worthy as the best of them. Well, if she was normal, people would get bored.

Far too soon for her liking, Ebony is being led to a secluded table in Launceston Place by an absolutely stunning man whose waistcoat is just a smidge too tight, swathing his impressive looking chest in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. And if she keeps her eyes trained on his arse (oh, god!) more than where she's walking then it's only because she's human. Ebony herself is wearing a new dress (Ralph Lauren, no less) that she'd talked her mum into getting her the day before because there was no way that she was going to meet her father for the first time dressed in something _last season_! It's a gorgeous dress, if she does say so she, all emerald silk and dark brown leather straps criss-crossing over her back and dipping perfectly down her chest, showing enough of her décolletage to be considered tastefully revealing. It sweeps the floor just enough to still be able to see the Jimmy Choo heels, buckled up her feet, over her ankles and up to mid-calf like an extended version of the Caligae Roman soldiers wore, poke out from underneath. The entire ensemble is finished off with the brown leather clutch bag that she is most definitely _clutching _in her hand in a vice like grip as she catches a glimpse of the man sat at the only table that she could possibly be being led to.

"Mr Clarke, your guest has arrived" announces the Maitre d' before holding her seat out for her. Throwing her flirtiest smile at Mr Fuckable she slips into the proffered seat, accepting the menu that is handed to her. A smile graces the man's lips, and she feels as much as see his eyes sweep over her.

"I do hope you brought a jacket with you" deadpans my father, his voice hitting her like a blow to the stomach.

"Why bother? I'm giving the waiters a lap dance at the end of the evening" she says back in a monotone. The Maitre d' smiles even wider, bowing his head to her before backing away slowly, eyes trained on her face. "Could we have a bottle of Château Pétrus, please" Asks Ebony quickly, before the Maitre d' is out of earshot.

"Certainly, ma'am" replies the Maitre d', sending her one more secret smile before retreating to get the much needed wine.

"Well at least you have good taste in wine" compliments her father as if her taste for alcoholic beverages is a building block for a good father daughter relationship.

"Yes, well, mum likes the finer things in life. That's probably why she left you" Snipes Ebony, glaring at the man across from her.

"She left me because I was fucking her secretary" replies her father, matching her glare for glare.

"Classy. I don't get my tastes from you then, eh? I can't stand things cheap and easy"

"That's my wife you're talking about, Ebony. Mind your mouth"

"Oh, I know. Your seventeenth anniversary is coming up, isn't it? That's quite an achievement, father." Congratulates Ebony sarcastically, "but tell me, how many more half brothers and sisters do I have running around?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

"Only with people I don't like"

"You don't know me, Ebony. Save your judgments until you can say you know the person you're judging" advices her father, still perusing the menu instead of returning her steeling gaze. "Anyway, perhaps we should start this again? Good evening, it's lovely to finally meet you"

"I can't say the same, I'm afraid. I'm here for my letter and the excuse to buy a new dress, that's all. I already have a dad, father. So it seems that you're kind of surplus to requirement"

"Your mother remarried?" Asks her father, suddenly intense.

"Obviously" I scoff, "mums maiden name wasn't d'Sylviac, was it? They got married when I was two; he's my dad as far as I'm concerned"

"Did she have any more children?"

"Adara and Clarice"

"I'm happy for her" he says, slightly whimsically.

"Whatever" grunts Ebony, sighing in relief as the wine turns up. She takes a massive sip the moment her glass is full.

"Are you ready to order?" Asks the waiter, looking between Ebony and her father.

"The Samundari Khazana, please" orders Ebony, her mouth watering slightly at the seafood curry – no matter how disgusting it sounds, it's the most delicious thing in the entire world.

"Albarragena Jamon Iberico de Bellota, thank you" Orders her father brusquely, passing the menus back to the waiter and taking a slow sip of his own wine.

"So, can I have to letter now?"

"Certainly" replies her father, pulling an envelope out of his suit jackets inside pocket and handing it over to Ebony.

The first thing she notices is that it's heavy, far too heavy to be normal paper. It feels more like papyrus and when she turns it over in her hand, notices the elaborate wax seal holding the envelope together. Imprinted in the wax is a bird in flight, its wings spread abreast, long and lean, about the size of a falcon. It is almost a shame to run her finger under the seal and unfold the letter. What she'd originally thought was an envelope isn't one, the paper had been folded in a way that meant that on one side is the elegant script addressing her, and on the other is a neatly penned paragraph.

My dearest Ebony,

I have lived a long life, one full of regrets and heartache, happiness and love, but you are the light I take to my grave. I am aware that my time is coming to an end, and as the life finally leaves me, I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep my distance from you. However, my dear, I know that my efforts would be futile – we are not destined to meet in this lifetime. Take these words as the ramblings of an old man, or as the warnings of destiny, whichever you wish – you are head strong and stubborn, so like the Dollophead, but more powerful than you possibly know right now. Trust yourself when all seems lost, look for the Raven and follow your heart – it will get you in trouble, but it is golden.

You once said to me that a strange old man gave you a ring, one that shone like the sun and felt like the purest love. You entrusted it to me, with parting words than warm my heart. I promised you, Lady Ebony-Ann.

Take this, and know that we shall see you soon, Princess.

ME

Oh, and do not have a bath tonight.

"This was sent with it" mumbles her father, handing Ebony a small box. "The box is made of ebony."

"Wow" says Ebony, opening the box gently. Nestled in emerald silk inside the box is the most beautiful piece of jewellery she has ever seen. "It's...its stunning" gasps Ebony. It's intricately woven pieces of silver, wrapped around a milky crystal; it looks like a mix between a pearl and a diamond, something that Ebony has never seen before in all her years of shopping, and into a delicate band.

"What did the letter say?"

"I'm not entirely sure" admits Ebony, so entranced by the ring that she doesn't think twice about handing the letter over to her father. He takes it silently as she slips the ring onto the fourth finger on her right hand. It fits perfectly. A surge of something warm runs through her veins to rest lightly in her chest.

"My father's name was Andrew Clarke. Who is ME?"

"Why are you asking me? I never met the man" replies Ebony, but the normal sting isn't in the words. She feels slightly light headed.

_X/X/X/X/X/X/X_

The rest of the evening is spent pretty much in silence, Ebony eating slowly and admiring the ring every time it catches the light as she lifts her fork to her mouth (yep, the fork in her _right _hand. No amount of fancy restaurants could ever change that habit) as he father sits and scowls into his food. They part ways with an awkward shoulder pat from her father as she slides into a taxi.

"How was it?" Asks Adara the moment Ebony gets through the door, almost like she'd been sat in the foyer waiting for Ebony to get home – yeah, she probably had been.

"Awkward" replies Ebony, handing her coat (Armani, duh) to Rosa, the live-in house keeper, and walking through to the kitchen, Adara trailing in her wake like a puppy.

"But you're not scowling, that's gotta be good"

"It could have been worse, I suppose" admits Ebony, pulling a half full bottle of Sassicaia out of the fridge and pouring a generous amount of the white wine into a glass. "Are mum and dad home yet?"

"Yeah, waiting for you in the living room. Mums been going a little bit crazy, worrying how he'd treat you"

"I'd better go and calm her down then"

"I think the half bottle of Sassicaia dads poured down her throat has done the trick already" laughs Adara, giving Ebony a quick hug and almost skipping out of the room. Bless the little imp. Ebony loved Clarice dearly, but with eight years between Ebony and Adara, their relationship had always been strongest in an overly protective big sister and adoring youngster kind of way.

"Mum!" Calls Ebony, climbing the stairs slowly, one hand holding her glass whilst the other one stops her from tripping over the dress – ripping the hem would _not _be good. Nor would tripping and face-planting the stairs, obviously.

"In here, darling" replies her mum, slightly slurred and too loud in the virtually silent house. "How'd it go?"

"Awkward, but fine. We didn't really talk much" says Ebony, leaving out the bickering and insults – there was no need to worry her more, "The letter from his father was weird though. I left it in my bag; you can read it in the morning. And he said that it wasn't even written by the right man" Explains Ebony, turning at the sound of footsteps at the door.

"God, I wish I had some credit in making you look so beautiful" laughs her dad (step-father technically, but he was dad in every way that counts) as he envelopes her in a tight hug.

"Ha, you did. It's called your credit card" Chuckles Ebony against his shoulder, earning herself a light-hearted smack to the back of her head, followed by a kiss to her temple as he let her go. Ebony squeezes one last time, aware that he'd been dreading tonight as much as she had, but for very different reasons. He'd been so worried that they'd get on, that he'd be replaced. She knew it, she'd tried to reassure him, but understandably it still niggled.

"Who was the letter signed by then, sweet?" Asks her mum, snuggling up to Ebony as she hitches her dress round her thighs and plonks down on the sofa and into her mum's side. There is nobody in the world she loves more than this woman!

"Someone whose initials were M E. He said his father's name was Andrew Clarke"

"Yeah, it was. That's weird"

"Yep. The content of the letter itself was bloody strange. Oh, and it came with this" says Ebony, holding her right hand out in front of her mums face so that she can see the ring that Ebony can't bring herself to take off.

"God, it's beautiful!" Gushes her mother, grabbing Ebony's hand to have a closer look.

"Too right it is"

"You sound tired" says her dad, peering at her with concern from one of the plush armchairs scattered around the room.

"I _am _tired" yawns Ebony, glancing at the clock on the mantel ticking the evening away, it's already ten past ten. "I was up and half six this morning to get to Easlington. I'm telling you, after twelve weeks of sleeping in, early mornings are a bitch."

"Shouldn't have become nocturnal then, should you" laughs her mum, kissing her head and ushering her to bed. "Night, darling. Sleep well"

"You too. Night dad"

"Night" calls her dad as she makes her way down the corridor.

Placing the now pretty much empty glass on the vanity she lets her hair down, watching in the mirror as cascades of black waves tumble down and frame her face. Her eyeliner is smudged, creating something between smoky make-up and panda eyes, making her eyes even darker. They're normally the darkest brown that she has ever seen, one shade from being called as night black as her hair. They're one of her favourite features, especially when encompassed in moonlight, the paleness of her skin even more pronounced. She was once called a modern day snow white – hair as dark as night, skin as pale as snow, lips as red as blood – by a cock of an ex-boyfriend who's one redeeming quality was the fact that he was very good at compliments. It appealed to her ego. Well, that and great sex. But great sex can't make up for a lack of absolutely everything else. Honestly.

Slipping quickly out of her dress and hanging it on the door of the wardrobe she presses to play button on her iPod, squeaking in delight as the first song that comes on is Samantha Barks version of 'On My Own' from Les Mis.

_On my own_

_Pretending he's beside me_

_All alone_

_I walk with him till morning_

_Without him_

_I feel his arms around me_

_And when I lose my way I close my eyes_

_And he has found me_

She sings along; voice a high soprano in perfect sync with Samantha, feeling the heat settled in her chest from earlier that evening thrumming happily through her blood, her nerves tingling like tiny caresses against every inch of her skin.

"Too much wine" declares Ebony, finishing the final mouthful. It hits the back of her throat a little too quickly, making her splutter, some of the wine rushing through her sinus' and out of her nose. It burns! Like fuck! Stumbling to the sink in the ensuite, she grabs a flannel, lathering it up and rubbing her face. The cool water feels like heaven against her flushed skin. A wash isn't enough. Flipping the electric shower on, holding her hand under the torrent of water to get the right temperature, she hops under the water as words come flooding back to her;

_Oh, and do not have a bath tonight_

_Oh, and do not have a bath tonight_

_Oh, and do not have a bath tonight_

Fuck it, it's a shower anyway, not a bath, and it was a weird letter from a weird man with amazing taste in jewellery who may or may not be related to her. Nothing to take seriously. Anyway, the water feels too good now to get out of the shower. Samantha carries on singing in the background, her voice lifting beautifully over the gentle rush of the water.

_In the rain the pavement shines like silver_

_All the lights are misty in the river_

_In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight_

_And all I see is him and me forever and ever _

Squirting a rather large dollop of shampoo (gotta love apples) into her hand, she rubs it into her hair, teasing out the knots and massaging her scalp, silently apologizing for stabbing pins into it for the entire evening.

_And I know it's only in my mind_

_That I'm talking to myself and not to him_

_And although I know that he is blind_

_Still I say, that there is a way for us_

__ There's a light, like a muted flicker of a flame. It bounces off of the glass, casting streaks of orange against Ebony's skin, criss-crossing the flash like a cage of light. She doesn't notice, her eyes still closed, head tipped back under the shower head.

_I love him_

_But when the night is over_

_He is gone_

_The river's just a river_

_Without him_

_The world around me changes_

_The trees are bare and everywhere_

_The streets are full of strangers _

The glow, the song, the rush of water morphing, joining, and complimenting each other. Ebony sighs contentedly, shutting the shower off, her ears once again filled with the beauty that is Samantha Barks' voice. _Such a devastating song. A devastating ending for a truly beautiful character. But I wish I had that kind of love, even for just a second, I wish someone loved me as desperately as Éponine loved Marius _– thinks Ebony, noticing for the first time the burnished orange, golden flecked light glistening around her.

_I love him_

_But every day I'm learning_

_All my life_

_I've only been pretending_

_Without me_

_His world will go on turning_

_A world that's full of happiness_

_That I have never known_

She moves slowly, cautious, and wraps a towel around her – a fluffy, white one that is the kind of towel that you just want to snuggle up into. The light flickers, moves and shifts as her hands tie the material around her chest. The ring catches her attention, the milky crystal swirling with flakes of gold; mesmerizing, beautiful, hypnotizing.

_I love him_

_I love him_

_I love him_

_But only on my own…_

The crystal intensifies; the gold exploding in a shower of sparks and heat, drawing all oxygen from the room as Ebony's vision tunnels and her world tilts, before the sparks dim and everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N – Hi again everyone, this is the next chapter. **_

_**Something I should have said right at the beginning – this is slightly AU. Mainly the fact that Gwaine is a Knight (although, Arthur is still a Prince at this point so there's no round table), Morgana is still firmly on the side of good and Lancelot is very much alive :) Other than that, 'Ebony Is A Friend Of Mine' is as much like 'Merlin' as I could possibly get whilst adding a modern character. I suppose you could say it's Fanon. **_

_**Hopefully, Arthur/OC and Merlin/OC but let me know if you think something should be changed. **_

_**Again, obviously I don't own Merlin, Arthur or anyone else (no matter how many times I wish for Gwaine!) Only Ebony.**_

_**Enjoy! **_

Punk'd…

Two things come to Ebony's attention simultaneously. The first being the unbelievable (ouch, fuck!) pain in her shoulder. The second being that she's laying on something that feels an awful lot like grass, scratchy but plush against her back, instead of the under-floor heated tiles of her bathroom that should be there.

"Um, Milady?" Asks a hesitant voice from somewhere above her head. Cracking her eyes open slightly, kind of scared of what she'd gonna find (okay, fine – extremely scared), she comes face to face with a duo of men. "Are you hurt?" Asks the one with curly blondish brown hair, his eyes narrowed until only a small slither of blue can be seen.

"I – er – no…wait, yes!" Stutters Ebony, wincing as her shoulder twinges. Her words are hesitant and slurred with confusion. Or maybe it's the copious amount of alcohol floating through her system that's causing the slurring. Who cares?

"I do like me a lady who visits the tavern" declares the one on the right, brown eyes twinkling with too much mischief that makes Ebony think he probably visited the tavern (um, a really bad feeling about this) recently himself.

"Where are you hurt, Milady?" Asks the first, shooting the brunet an exasperatedly fond look that clearly says 'shut the fuck up'.

"My shoulder, I think I must have landed on it or something" mutters Ebony, struggling to sit up.

"We'll get you to Gaius, the court physician" says the brunet, stooping quickly to sling a surprisingly gentle arm across her back and help her to her feet.

There's a slight tugging sensation across her skin, but it's not until an embarrassed chocking sound comes from the blond that Ebony notices that the towel that had previously been the only thing covering her modesty (it's a bloody big towel, thank God!) is dangling almost mockingly on the end of the brunets sword – obviously snagging as he'd bent to help her.

"Shit" squeaks Ebony; blood rushing to the surface of her skin all over, contemplating whether bending down to grab the towel and flashing both men would be more embarrassing than burying herself in the brunets' cloak. Luckily, she's saved from making the choice as he deftly flicks the buckle around his neck and with a twirl of his arm, settles the startlingly red cloak around her shoulders, pulling it tightly around her front, a grin playing around his lips.

"Thank you…" says Ebony, trailing off and leaving the sentence hanging for the man to insert his name.

"Gwaine"

"Thank you, Gwaine" repeats Ebony, and although it feels rather wobbly, the smile she throws him is genuine.

"You're welcome, Milady" chuckles Gwaine, bowing his head slightly before waving a dismissive (but friendly) hand towards the blond man "And this is Sir Leon"

"Thanks Leon. I'm Ebony…wait! Leon? _Sir _Leon?" Blurts Ebony, the bad feeling that had started in the pit of her stomach swelling into a rather massive, cramping ball of 'oh shit'.

"Hey, I'm a Knight too!" Says Gwaine indignantly, "it's _my _cloak you're wearing, complete with the Pendragon crest and everything!"

"Sir Gawain" says Ebony absentmindedly, then something occurs to her, "_Pendragon_?! As in _King Arthur_?!"

"Well, Uther is still going strong, so Arthur is not King quite yet" reasons Leon, _Sir _Leon (eek!) looking at Ebony like she's lost her mind. She's gotta admit – there's a strong possibility of that being true. All the while Gwaine's spluttering, "It's Gwaine! G. W. A. I. N. E!"

"Uther…_Pendragon_…C – C – Camelot?"

"Yes" answers Gwaine, drawing the word out slowly, turning the statement into a question, with the lilt on the end, as if he's unsure of his own answer. "Do you think she hit her head?"

Leon, however, is peering at Ebony, hearing the muttered 'chainmail…sword…_castle!_' coming from the girls mouth as her head whips back and forth like a frightened animal knowing its being hunted. Her eyes are wide, swallowed up with black as dark as her namesake. It's hard to tell whether she's naturally that pale or whether she's about to faint.

"Possibly" sighs Leon, "best get her to Gaius"

"Righty ho" sings Gwaine, bending before a completely unsuspecting Ebony and knocking her knees out from under her, yanking her body into his arms easily, making sure to cradle her shoulder gently.

"Hey!" Shouts Ebony, trying and failing to roll away from the hold. The movement catches her shoulder and a hiss of pain escapes her lips.

"Won't be trying that again, will you?" Chuckles Gwaine, laughing harder at the mutinous look Ebony shoots him.

"Shut it, GAWAIN"

"It's GWAINE" insists Gwaine.

"That's not what the history books say" mutters Ebony, more to herself than to _Gwaine_, but what with her being so close, he hears it anyway.

"That's not what the what says about the what?"

"That made a lot of sense" sneers Ebony, wanting so badly to cross her arm over her chest, to get some distance between her and the fucking annoying man. Somehow, she doesn't think her shoulder's going to let her.

"I thought it made perfect sense" quips Gwaine, "I hope it's the hit to the head making you this stupid, I was so hoping to finally meet a beautiful lady who happened to have some grasp at intellect"

"Why? I doubt you'd be able to understand a thing she said" huffs Ebony, biting her tongue against the automatic urge to shout 'I got three A's and an A star!' in the stupid man's face. The beautiful comment may or may not have stopped her from using her good hand to smack the fucker – she can't help it, her ego has a mind of its own! Completely. Not. Her. Fault.

"Ha, she's as bad as Merlin!" Laughs Gwaine loudly.

"Do you know Merlin?" Asks Leon, a thought suddenly popping into his head, "you look awfully alike. Same hair, same pallor, same bite. If only the eyes were the same, I'd swear you could be his sister"

"Possibly" shrugs Ebony, taking more notice of the world around her than what's coming out of her mouth or the questions being thrown at her, "Although, I wouldn't be surprised. My father shags around a lot"

"_What_?" Gasps Leon, looking at Ebony like she'd started walking around with a tampon stuck up her nose or something. Gwaine is in hysterics, his chest heaving against Ebony's side, his arms shaking violently. She's starting to feel a tad unsafe.

"I like her!" Declares Gwaine, beaming a smile down at Ebony as they pass under a gate…a _portcullis_! "So much like Merlin, I'd bet all my money they're related!"

"…_Merlin_? No, no, no…that's it! I'm done. This has got to be a joke! Hahahaha, Emma, come out come out wherever you are!" shouts Ebony, reaching levels of hysteria that she didn't think was even possible. "You've set this up, haven't you? I'm on _Punk'd_, aren't I? Where's Ashton, then, eh? The gigs up, Emma! It's over! Get these re-enactment freaks away from me! I'm sorry I didn't Skype you! I'M SORRY! Just get me away from here!"

"Shh!" Hisses Gwaine, whipping his head around quickly and smiling to reassure the passersby that everything's okay. "Nothing to worry about, she hit her head a while ago. Just taking her to Gaius"

"Don't tell me to 'shh'!" Snaps Ebony, trying to pull away again, whimpering again as it tugs on her shoulder. "You're in on this" accuses Ebony.

"In on what?" Asks Leon in an attempt to appease her, at least until they get her on Gaius' table, lest she causes more damage to her injuries.

"This! I mean, okay, I applaud you on how real this seems. You almost had me going, I thought maybe; maybe we could possibly be in Camelot. I don't know, like a hollo-version of some kind that the government has accidently let free without testing it properly. Or, or, or, I'd had the water too hot and started to hallucinate. But really, _Merlin_? A step too far my friend. Not even my mind could conjure up such a legend." Rants Ebony as the climb up some spiral stairs.

"Hollo-version?" Asks Leon, sounding the unfamiliar words out on his tongue experimentally.

"Merlin, a legend?" Scoffs a voice from behind the men. Gwaine turns around quickly, narrowly missing smacking Ebony's head on the stone wall.

"Sire" greet both men, bowing their heads slightly, in a much more respectful way than when Gwaine had greeted Ebony.

"Sire? Oh, let me guess – you're Arthur?" Asks Ebony, voice falsely sweet, bouncing off of the walls. She feels Gwaine squeeze her warningly. But. She. Has. Had. Enough. This isn't funny, for fuck sake. And Emma is being scratched off of the best friend list _permanently_!

"Well, you look absolutely nothing like him" declares Ebony, heedless to Gwaine and Leon's dawning looks of horror, "he's supposed to be handsome, athletic, intelligent. _Kind_! You sire, appear to be none of those things. What kind of fucking actor are you?" Okay, so every word she just said was a lie – Mr big shot actor is undeniably bloody gorgeous, all golden blond and blue eyes. Athletic to the extreme (the arms!) – How, exactly, can muscles still be visible under chainmail? But _she is seriously pissed off_.

"Excuse me?" Blinks 'Arthur', his face flushing a rather annoyingly attractive shade of red. Probably embarrassed to have been caught out before he's even had a chance to really play his role. Yeah, that's it. Definitely.

"Ugh, you heard what I said" growls Ebony, glaring at 'Arthur' in a way that should make him spontaneously combust. If only she had super powers! "Now, Sir Gwaine, or how ever the hell you pronounce your name, will you get me to this freaking Gaius man so that this whole charade can end and I can get to a proper fucking hospital?"

"Um, sorry Sire," says Leon, grimacing at the anger flashing in the Prince's face, "we found her near the lower town; she's banged her head pretty badly. I'm sure once she's had a bit of rest, she'll be as polite as a proper lady"

"Who says I'm not a proper lady?" Demands Ebony, scowling at Leon and the 'Prince' in turn, "I'll have you know, I have perfect manners when in the presence of people who deserve them"

"Is she Merlin's sister?" Asks 'Arthur', his eyes running over her leisurely. Annoyingly, it makes her squirm in Gwaine arms. She's not analysing that too closely just yet. Being attracted to a prick of an actor is not something she wants complicating her already complicated life right now.

"Possibly" laughs Gwaine, relieved as the tension in the Princess' shoulders relaxes.

"Oh, Lord help us," begs 'Arthur', rolling his eyes heavenward. "A female Merlin – that's all we need!"

"Ugh, fuck off back to the set of One Tree Hill or where ever it is you came from" orders Ebony, throwing an impatient look at Gwaine.

"I do hope you're right, Leon. If she can't hold her tongue once Gaius has treated her then I'll be forced to put her in the stocks," then 'Arthur' turns to Ebony, raising an eyebrow, "you can't talk to me like that" he warns, "I'll make an exception for your, _condition_, but only this once." And then he turns to stride confidently down the corridor, as if he owns the place. Bastard.

"Ha, if you really are Merlin's sister, he'll be wrapped round your little finger by the end of the day" prophesies Gwaine, turning and kicking open the heavy wooden door.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Hi! This is the next chapter – Fingers crossed Merlin comes across as the Original Character, let me know if there's something that needs to be changed. **

**Again, I don't own any of the characters (apart from Ebony) **

**Enjoy! **

'Why aren't you old?...'

The room on the other side of the door is fairly small (well compared to her bedroom at home…) and stinks like her mums herb garden (surprisingly not the weirdest idea her mother has ever had) but it looks homey, which is a façade that her stainless steel and marble house has never quite mastered.

"Is everything alright Gwaine?" Comes a voice, pleasantly friendly, from up a few steps and to the back of the main room. A head pops around the door, mob of black hair as dark as her own, as blue orbs survey they three people stood on the threshold.

"See, GWAINE" enunciates Gwaine, looking very much like if it were only the two of them in the room, he'd stick his tongue out. A bit louder, before Ebony can butt in with a witty retort of her own, he says, "we found her by the lower town, Merlin. We're looking for Gaius; I think she's banged her head." Then he settles her gently on a table in the middle of the room.

"Ha, _Merlin_? Okay, Emma, I know you were never a fan of Arthurian Legend – but shouldn't the producers have done _some _research?" Shouts Ebony, glaring around the room at large, before settling her gaze on the shocked raven haired boy in front of her, "god, you're worse than the _prat_ playing Arthur! You're supposed to be _old_! With a _beard_!..."

"She does this a lot" says Gwaine, waving his arms to encompass Ebony's entire freak out in his explanation.

"…And you're supposed to be trapped in a tree! Or haven't you met Nimueh yet? This is ridiculous; I thought MTV was better than this!"

"What did you just say?" Squeaks 'Merlin', his voice a couple of octaves higher than it was originally.

"I said" huffs Ebony, "that you are meant to be trapped in a tree! By _Nimueh_!"

"Gwaine, Leon, I think its best if you leave us to it" snaps 'Merlin', "Gaius is out collecting supplies but he should be back pretty soon. I'd best get her settled, before she works herself up any more; it could be more damaging to her injuries"

"If you're sure?" Asks Leon sceptically, taking a final look at Ebony.

"Yes, I'm sure. She'll be back to her normal self by tomorrow" reassures 'Merlin', his voice unbelievably strained. Huh, maybe this idiot isn't as bad an actor as the others – that was defiantly realistic at least.

"Okay, but keep us informed" orders Leon, striding from the room in a twirl of his cloak. It upsets a hell of a lot of dust from the floor and Ebony has to crinkle her nose to keep from sneezing. They could have at least cleaned the set, for fucks sake, Emma knows she has _allergies_!

"I'll be back for my cloak" says Gwaine, grinning at 'Merlin', who shoots him a genuine dopey looking smile back, even if it does look a little forced, "don't worry about washing it" are his parting words, punctuated with a wink, at Ebony.

"Perv" shouts Ebony at his retreating back, not at all watching the way that his breeches (well at least costume knows what they're doing) squeeze an arse that rivals the Maître d's from the other night. "You do realise that this is going to be the _worst _episode ever, right?" Ventures Ebony, swinging her legs back and forth, making sure to keep a firm hold on the cloak.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" says 'Merlin', starting to pace in front of her, "how to you know Nimueh?"

"She's quite a common character" muses Ebony, happily sinking into a subject she knows, "she's in the _Vulgate Cycle_, although she's known as Viviane in that one"

"What?"

"Yeah, I know – Nimueh is such a cooler name. Um, she's in Sir Thomas Malory's _Le Morte d'Arthur, _Tennyson wrote about her in the _Idylls of the King _and, she's portrayed in a lot of art as well. My favourite is probably the one by _Edward Burne-Jones_, it's so hauntingly beautiful. Although, I guess she was beautiful. Well, that's always how the Lady of the Lake is described, anyway, why else would Merlin become so enamoured with her? It can't be her personality, she's a bitch – worse than me at my worst" laughs Ebony, finally noticing the look on 'Merlin's' face. "Now what's wrong?

"Lady of the Lake?" Splutters 'Merlin', "Nimueh was a Priestess of the Old Religion, I _killed _her; I didn't fall in love with her. And she defiantly did _not _ever live in a lake. She lived on the Isle of the Blessed"

"Yup, Lady of the Lake. I don't know what you're going on about, but some people depict her as being different people, there's never normally just Nimueh. I think I even read something once where _Morgan Le Fey _was related to her, but I think that's a load of shit. I mean, why in the world would Morgan be related to Nimueh? Makes no sense really, but I guess we'll never know. It's not like we can _actually _go back in time to the real Camelot and ask them, eh? There's no such thing as Doctor Who. You can't time travel!" laughs Ebony, even if the idea of actually being able to time travel is her biggest wish (as with the majority of historians) and knowing that it won't happen, at least not in her life time, makes her want to cry (as stupid as that is).

"_Morgan_? _Morgana_?" Hisses 'Merlin', his eyebrows up somewhere in his hairline.

"Yeah, she's sometimes called Morgana" nods Ebony, "daughter of Igraine and Uther, although most people recognise her as the daughter of Gorlois"

"That's not true" Says 'Merlin', losing the carefully controlled air he'd gathered around himself, "She is the Kings Ward, not his daughter. If he hears you say that again, you'll be dragged to the gallows before sundown"

"Relax, mate, nobody's been hung in England since '64"

"What's England?"

"A county. _This _country! Seriously, drop the act. It's getting ridiculous"

"This is Camelot" replies 'Merlin' slowly. "And it's a _Kingdom_, not a country or whatever you just said. There are five of them; Camelot, Mercia, Caerleon, Gawant and Essetir. Which one are you from?"

"In the Legend, yes" agrees Ebony, "and I'm from _England. _London to be exact"

"What Legend?" Asks 'Merlin' in an exasperated tone.

"Arthurian Legend! This episode is supposed to be about it. I have to say – you're all bollocksing it up beautifully"

"Now we're just going round in circles" sighs 'Merlin', crossing his arms and peering at her face, "Gaius should be back soon, I think you need some urgent attention to your head injury – you're not making much sense."

"I'm making plenty of sense, thank you very much. You're the idiot who doesn't know when to give up."

"Have you been speaking to Arthur?" Asks 'Merlin', chuckling, "I'll have you know, I'm not as much of an idiot as he likes to think"

"You're all rubbish actors, and this is a rubbish show and I'm leaving now" snaps Ebony, jumping down from the table, trying to clutch her shoulder without flashing the idiot. "Thank you for the opportunity but I'm afraid I won't sign a release for this piece of shit"

"And where exactly do you plan on going?" Asks 'Merlin', reaching the door before Ebony gets there and raising an enquiring eyebrow.

"_Home"_

"Well_ home_ is obviously not Camelot. You might as well stay here for a bit, I can wrap your shoulder and then Gaius can have a look at your head before you set out for what I can only assume is quite a journey"

"Can't you just get the onset doctor or something?" Grumbles Ebony, "or just drive me to a hospital?"

"What's a hospital?" Asks 'Merlin', forehead scrunched up tightly. It's something in his eyes that finally makes Ebony's stomach fall.

"You really don't know, do you?" Whispers Ebony, trying very, _very _hard not to panic. 'Merlin' shakes his head slowly. "You really_ are _Merlin?" he nods, "But why aren't you old?" Demands Ebony, before something else occurs to her, "you still have magic though, right?"

"Magic?" Squeaks Merlin, but something in Ebony's face makes him sigh, "Yes, I have magic. But Uther can't know. He'd kill me. Neither can Arthur for that matter"

"You're secret is safe with me" promises Ebony, continuing in a whisper, "The legends have been wrong, all this time. Everything I've learnt, everything I've loved was wrong"

"What's your name?" Asks Merlin (dear god! The _real _Merlin), attempting to pull her out of the sudden melancholia.

"Ebony"

"Well Ebony, how about you let me have a look at your shoulder?" Ebony just nods and allows herself to be led back over to the table, head whirling manically. She's travelled in time, she's in Medieval England, and she's in _Camelot – _with _Merlin_! And she'd sworn at _Prince Arthur_! Oh fuck. "Why are you wearing Gwaine's cloak, anyway?" Asks Merlin conversationally.

"I'd just gotten out of the shower; there was this light, like an explosion. Then I was here, in only a towel. If he'd left me to walk around naked, I'd have used his own sword to skewer him like a fucking shish kebab"

"Oh" replies Merlin, his face bright red with a blush as he hops quickly away from Ebony and into the room up the stairs. He's back quickly, a bundle of cloth in his arms. "What's a shish kebab?"

"Meat. On a stick"

"Oh" says Merlin, again, holding the bundle in his arms forwards with a hesitant smile, "you can wear these until we find you something else. They're mine, but they shouldn't be too big on you"

"Thank you" murmurs Ebony, trying very hard not to cry. Overwhelmed is the bloody understatement of the century (both the 5th and the 21st century!) and no matter how many times Ebony has wished she could actually travel back to Camelot, now that it's happened, she kind of wants to throw up, faint, cry and scream (not necessarily in that order).

"You can change in my room" offers Merlin, pointing up the stairs to where he'd gotten the clothes. "Wrap the bed sheet around your chest so that I can bandage up your shoulder before you put the tunic on"

"Will do" promises Ebony, smiling kindly at him – bless the blush rising even higher up his neck at the mention of her chest! She takes the clothes, squeezes his hand gently in thanks and hobbles up the steps, shutting the door quietly behind her, collapsing against it and letting out a huff of breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.


	4. Chapter 4

Unladylike…

This room is even smaller, literally smaller than her bathroom, and pretty bare. The walls are smooth stone, like the rest of the castle she's seen so far, and only enough space for the odd bit of furniture. There's only one cupboard, a table, a bed and a rickety looking wooden bedside table in total. It's kind of cold, despite the rays of morning sunlight (and isn't _that _weird – it'd been late evening when she'd left 2013; time travel apparently has no qualms about time of day) filtering through the wooden shutters covering the only window, crudely cut out of the wall.

Taking one final sweep around the room with her eyes, Ebony lets the cloak drop from her good shoulder and gently takes it off of her other before resting it lightly against the bed, shivering the moment the air hits her flesh. Good-bumps flutter across her skin, tingling slightly. She can feel other certain _parts _of herself hardening against the temperature and prays to any God there is (Buddha, Brahma, Allah – fucking _anyone_) that it's not going to be obvious once she's got the tunic on – with no bra!

She yanks the breeches out of the bundle of clothing and shimmies into them as quickly as possible with the use of only one of her arms. They're soft, supple dark leather but look like they've become that way through extensive use instead of designed to be so comfortable. Going commando isn't Ebony's idea of fun, but it's better than only being covered by a cloak, so she's not complaining. Or, not much anyway – which is an achievement for Ebony-Ann d'Sylviac when it comes to clothing.

Grabbing the top sheet off of the bed, she awkwardly wraps it around her chest, towel style, and heads kind of nervously back into the main room. Now that she's aware of exactly where she is, she's not exactly sure how to act. She bites her lip, watching Merlin (still – Oh. God) rummaging around in some draws, pulling out some little glass vials filled with a multitude of different colours and something that looks like rags of material, ripped into even strips.

"Thank you for the clothes" says Ebony, again, walking hesitantly back to the table she'd been sat on before.

"You're welcome" replies Merlin, looking at her over his shoulder and smiling so wide that Ebony would bet money it hurts his cheeks – but it looks natural and happy, so different from the cranky, albeit brilliant and legendary, old man Ebony always envisioned when thinking of Merlin. "Do they fit okay?"

"Perfectly, actually" assures Ebony, hopping up as gracefully as possible back onto the table. Surprisingly enough, the breeches do fit. With Merlin's thin, almost lanky, frame, they fit perfectly around her waist and are almost a perfect fit in leg length – maybe a bit too long, but Ebony has always been tall, and at five seven compared to Merlin's six foot, a few rolls over the waist has taken care of the small difference.

"Great" and he sounds unbelievably happy at being able to offer her half decent clothes, it makes her want to hug him so hard he can't breathe. And hugging is not an urge that Ebony has often, notwithstanding her family and Emma. "I'll find you some boots once I'm done with your shoulder. You must be freezing walking on early morning stone floors"

"I think I've gone numb" laughs Ebony.

"That's probably not good"

"Aren't you the doctor – er, physician, here?"

"The physicians apprentice actually" replies Merlin, dumping a wad of rags at Ebony's side and running strangely warm fingers over her shoulder, assessing the damage. "I'm Prince Arthurs Manservant the majority of the time; I just help Gaius out too"

"Manservant?" Gasps Ebony, jerking in surprise and hissing as her shoulder twinges in complaint. Merlin, the all powerful sorcerer, _Merlin_, Arthur's manservant? What the fuck happened to him being his adviser?

"Not the best job in the world, no" chuckles Merlin, picking up one of the rags and starting to wrap it around her shoulder and up under her arm a few times, "but he isn't as much of prat as he appears to be when you first meet him. I promise"

"Well, I hope so" mutters Ebony, wincing at a particularly tight wrap, "I think I have some apologising to do next time I see him" she admits, blushing at what an idiot she'd been.

"Why?" Asks Merlin, pulling the make-shift bandage around her middle, just under her boobs, "I'm going to have to tie this _really _tight, Ebony. Your shoulder needs to be braced but you'll have to pull the blanket out from under the wrapping once I'm done. If I make it too loose now, it'll be useless later"

"Okay" nods Ebony, sighing in relief as he finishes pulling the material around her back and over her shoulder again, and tying it tightly against her neck. It's kind of hard to breathe. "As for Arthur, well, I still thought I was being tricked. I didn't think he was really who he said he was, and may have spoken in a very, um, _unladylike _manner."

"I wouldn't worry too much" assures Merlin, patting her good shoulder and putting the supplies back into a cupboard behind her, "if he didn't throw you in the dungeons right that minute, you didn't offend him that badly. It's when he goes red and starts to splutter that you should make a run for it"

"He _did _go red and start to splutter" whines Ebony, mentally cringing at the idea of the bloody _dungeons_ and wondering whether there was such a thing as extradition between two time periods. Doubtful – very doubtful.

"And you're still here to tell the tale" cheers Merlin dorkily, "you must have made a good impression anyway. Let me guess, he said; 'you can't talk to me like that'!" The voice he puts on is a rather impressive representation of the Prince's arrogant drawl.

"Yes!"

"He says that a lot" whispers Merlin conspiratorially, "I tend to ignore it. It does the prat some good to have someone not pamper to his every whim"

"But you're his manservant – isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

"Yes, I'm _supposed _to do that." Chuckles Merlin, face alive and animated with amusement. He looks like one of those constantly happy people, someone who should never be sad – ever. "But if I did, he'd have nobody to yell at, and then he'd get bored and even more difficult"

"You know, you're nothing like the books say" says Ebony, debating whether she should be telling Merlin about the future, but she figures she's probably already done a load of damage to the whole quantum physicsy stuff (bless _The Butterfly Effect_), so she might as well.

"What do the books say?" Asks Merlin curiously, leaning his hip on the table beside her.

"That you're an old man and advisor to King Arthur"

"Well he isn't King yet, but you never know" replies Merlin, but something dark flickers across his face for a second before he schools his features and is once again smiling. "So, you mentioned time travel. I didn't even know that was possible"

"What, the most powerful sorcerer alive has never travelled in time?" Teases Ebony, bumping her good shoulder against his chest.

"Warlock" corrects Merlin, pointing to himself with a laugh, but it sounds kind of guarded – as if he's not comfortable with talking about his magic with somebody else, "can't say I've ever attempted it."

"Yes, well, I didn't do it on purpose either"

"Do you have any idea how it happened?"

"Nope, one minute I was in the shower – er, bath like thing that tips water on your head – and the next there was a flash of golden light and I woke up being peered at by Gwaine and Leon" Merlin laughs at her contorted attempt at explaining a shower, then frowns.

"If you didn't come back here on purpose, then we can assume that someone has sent you here for a reason"

"Possibly, although I don't know why anyone would"

"I can't think of anything either, but we'll figure it out eventually. Especially once we've gotten Gaius on side – that man is brilliant with a book"

"I kind of want to explore while I'm here though" admits Ebony, smiling shyly and watching Merlin's grin out of the corner of her eye, "I've grown up with Arthurian Legend, and it's be a waste of such a crazy twist of fate to not make the most of it"

"Aye" nods Merlin, ushering Ebony up the stairs, handing her a vial of some kind of purple liquid, and an order of, "tonic, tunic, and belt. In that order! I'll hunt down some boots" and Ebony is almost sure she hears him mutter, "show Arthur his tracking techniques aren't all that superior" and a smothered laugh as he heads out into the corridor.

The tonic tastes vile, like manure, old fish guts and pond water, but the pain in her shoulder dissipates almost immediately. With some extreme awkwardness and uncomfortable movements, Ebony tugs the blanket out from beneath the bandages (it's slightly easier to breathe, but Merlin was right – they _are _still tight) and struggles into a light blue tunic, belting it across her hips hazardously with a dark brown leather belt that was wadded up with the rest of the clothing.

Honestly, the tunic is kind of itchy – a mixture of woollen or linen material that is nowhere near up to Prada or Ralph Laurens standards, and short sleeved, but still a lot warmer than just the blanket. And (thank fuck!) it's not completely obvious that she isn't wearing a bra – although she can feel the paranoia creeping into the back of her mind, making her glance down at her chest every couple of minutes. Why could she not have been wearing fucking clothes when she'd been beamed back the bloody 5th century?! Or at least just some Victoria's Secret underwear! Spock must be a dick.

When she opens the door again, Merlin is stood victoriously waving some brown leather boots at her, "they're the smallest I could find, but I've wadded up some rages and pushed them into the toes so they should fit"

"Thank you" says Ebony, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping her arms around Merlin's neck, "you don't know me, I come here talking about time travel and crappy TV shows, and still you go out of your way to make sure I'm alright. Thank you"

"Honestly, you're welcome" replies Merlin, hesitantly returning the hug and tapping her a bit awkwardly on the back.

"Um, sorry. Do you not like hugs?" Blurts Ebony, pulling away as quickly as she'd attacked him, "actually, wait – am I even _allowed _to hug – um, embrace? – you? Or is there some kind of distance required between men and women?" Asks Ebony, trying to run her mind back to all the 5th century etiquette she can think of as she drags the boots on. They reach just to below her knee and actually fit pretty well. They're a hell of a lot comfier than they look.

"No, it's fine" laughs Merlin, giving her a gentle but quick hug to demonstrate his point. "I just don't get many ladies flinging themselves at me"

"I'm not a lady" mutters Ebony, thinking over the medieval version of a Lady. She is most definitely _not _of noble blood.

"Well, if you want to experience more of Camelot than just the kitchens, we'd best make you one" declares Merlin, rubbing his hands together happily – and Ebony can see his mind whirring with all the ideas running through his head.

"Pft, good luck" snorts Ebony, "my father's been trying to do that for a year now"

"Ah, but he isn't an 'all powerful sorcerer' as you quite brilliantly put it, is he?" He asks, raising an eyebrow in the most mischievous expression Ebony has ever seen – on _anyone_, her ten year old sister included. "I thought not – come, we've got a story worthy of nobility to create" says Merlin, holding his hand out for Ebony to take.

"I feel like you've done this before"

"I might have" answers Merlin with a guffaw, linking their fingers and dragging her out into the corridor, "the library awaits, Milady!"


End file.
